


kaleyedotrope

by hookedonsunshine



Category: Kaleidotrope (Podcast), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Featuring just, M/M, Multi, also Georgie has a radio show called what the toast, an inordinate amount of tea, and Elias being terrible, and martin just wants to find a boyfriend and get through uni with his head down, but also has a huge crush on the slightly deranged cynic from the student radio, kaleidotrope AU, no knowledge of kaleidotrope required, the admiral is a cohost, we’re going maximum fluff here folks, where Jon is drew if drew was a cynical conspiracy theorist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hookedonsunshine/pseuds/hookedonsunshine
Summary: Jon just wants to work on his biweekly student radio broadcast alone, without having an insufferable cohost forced on him by his equally insufferable boss. Something is going on at the Magnus Institute, a university famous for touting how every student finds a happy ending, in perfectly packaged meet-cutes and romance tropes, and Jon is determined to get to the bottom of it.Meanwhile, Martin just wants the cute, only mildly deranged radio host of his favourite show to relax a little, and maybe go on a date with him sometime (because radio cohosts in love is totally a trope, right?)Kaleidotrope AU!
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, and others
Comments: 40
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

**_The Daily Mail_ **

**_The University Where Magic Happens - Annabelle Cane, senior reporter._ **

_The Magnus Institute, a private university in the United Kingdom, and a leading global player in research, academia, sports, and literature, has another, more famous, reputation. A recent survey by this reporter found that, of the Institute's student body, numbering nearly 10,000 students, more than 90% were in relationships upon the point of leaving the Institute. Many prominent global figures, including athletes, politicians and actors, tout the Institute as integral to their finding love and success in life well past graduation._

_When approached for interview, a University representative, who requested to remain unnamed, had the following to say._

_"The Magnus Institute prides itself on high quality in all aspects of life, including research and academia, and it only follows that this is reflected in the high satisfaction of our current students and alumni. Whether or not this is mediated by the 'tropes' we are frequently questioned about is irrelevant. The institute has a rich history built on a loving relationship between it's founders, and any magic which may be present is unimportant when compared to the high quality education, beautiful grounds, and pristine library on the campus._

_I would advise any prospective students who wish to know why our student satisfaction is so high to come to one of our many annual open days and see for themselves - I am positive they will not be disappointed."_

_Hardly a steadfast denial. No matter whether there is magic or not (and this reporter is inclined towards the former - the love between Jonah Magnus and Robert Smirke is a thing of legend, after all), the love and support Institute students have for both each other, and for the romance, mystery, and magic of their campus, is never in question._

* * *

“And that, listeners, is why I am relaying my concerns to you. The student body deserve to know if their free will is somehow being _manipulated_ by the so-called ‘magic’ here at the Magnus Institute, and-“

Jon’s mic abruptly cut out as a mellow, lofi hip-hop-esque song curled out of the speakers, and, presumably, onto the airways, cutting him off mid-tirade. Elias’s face, behind the glass of the sound-booth, remained as infallibly neutral as ever, but Jon thought _maybe_ his eyebrow was twitching.

He raised an eyebrow at the station manager in turn. “I thought I was allowed to talk about whatever I thought relevant on _my_ show?”

He and Elias had once had something resembling a cordial relationship, when he'd first started working at the station the previous year. Jon had joined the show when Elias had approached him after reading an article Jon had published in the student paper. As a postgrad student, who'd joined the institute to pursue a master's degree in 12th century Welsh literature following graduating from Oxford aged 20, he'd been horrified by the sheer number of undergraduate students in a class he was TA for who gave genuine creedence to the flat earth theory, and had taken it unto himself to rectify their ignorance, publishing a (in his opinion) cutting exposé on the conspiracy. Elias had thought it entertaining enough to have weight as a regular show, and had offered him a slot after their previous host, Michael, had been expelled for drug dealing on campus.

They'd had a good thing going for the last year or so, Jon finding interesting (and ridiculous) theories online, which he'd spend the week picking apart, and would then talk through on air, interspersed with songs Tim deemed _relaxing evening listening_ (whatever _that_ meant). However, over the year, the number of relationships he'd noticed blooming, picture perfect and eerily maufactured, had been setting him more and more on edge. He'd mentioned it to Georgie, his girlfriend at the time (currently ex- now _that_ had been a disaster), who'd laughed at Jon's ignorance about his own uni, and sent him several links about the Institute's, apparently famed, magic. 

Jon had been suitably horrified, both at the sheer amount of empirical evidence which actually _supported_ the presence of this magic, and at the fact that he was apparently the _only person_ in the whole University who saw no problem with their personal relationships being interfered with with some kind of higher entity.

Elias was one such person.

“Within reason, Jon. We can’t have the students starting an uprising due to your fearmongering around a _harmless_ local legend now, can we?”

“Uprising seems a little overdramatic." He certainly wasn't suggesting the induction of a coup, he just wanted people to be aware; to not fall into relationships which were horrifically unsuitable anywhere aside from the Stepford-eerie suburbia of the the carefully coiffed campus.

“You’re an… influential figure. I certainly wouldn’t want to be forced to fend off the board of trustees on your behalf.” He smiled cooly, eyes flat.

A voice inside Jon’s head laughed at the very idea that Elias would do anything other than throw Jon under the bus at the slightest sign of trouble. The man was competent, certainly, but he had no time for inconveniences which could be otherwise more easily _dealt with._

“I just think people should _care_ more! My god, the bloody tropes are practically a marketing campaign for the university all on their own, and yet no one seems to take issue?”

“Perhaps you’re simply bitter that you have yet to find your own 'trope'?" The fact Elias threw air-quotes around the word trope was both grossly out of character, and only added insult to injury. "Not been frequenting the coffee shop recently ? I hear from Tim that Section 31 has a particularly attractive new barista. Basira, I think her name was?” Coffee shop AU, Jon mentally noted. TV tropes had proved a wonderful source of awareness since he'd been made aware that many of them were reflected in the daily lives of his peers.

“Basira the barista?” Jon scoffed. “And that’s not – please stay far, _far_ away from my love life, Elias.”

“From what I can tell, there’s not much to stay away from.” He pushed open the door to the booth, lip curled in distaste at the mess of papers and photographs, plus one pinboard with flashcards linked by old string, salvaged by Jon and Georgie from his 1st year halls. “This is becoming an issue Jon. You were supposed to disprove conspiracy theories, not invent new ones.”

“It’s not a _conspiracy-_ “ Jon believed in _evidence_. A conspiracy would be if he was conjuring conjecture out of nowhere; he had said nothing but the bare _facts._

“What about that segment you were planning on that pop singer? Evil Lavatory, or whatever her name was?” Elias, as a rule, was utterly disinterested in any of the shows which he put on air, so long as they were making sufficient advertising revenue, and giving off the right _image_ of the University. Jon was impressed that he'd remembered _anything_ about his show proposal from the previous week (even if he had _butchered_ the name).

“Are you talking about _Avril Lavigne?_ ”

He sighed in exasperation. “It hardly matters. She was replaced by a clone, correct?”

“I was planning on talking about why it is _completely ridiculous_ to suggest a world famous icon had been replaced by a clone, yes.”

“Then why not go back to that? Your fact checking tirades were nonsensical, but they got excellent ratings.”

“Because I need to _tell_ people Elias. Do you know what happened to Tim last week?” Tim waved cheerfully from the soundbooth, making no effort to hide his blatant eavesdropping of their argument (or _conversation_ , as Elias would have called it). He leant back in his chair in entertainment, and Jon thought he might have had popcorn, which was both ridiculous, and extremely likely.

“Whatever Tim does is really none of my business outside of broadcasting hours.” Tim pulled a horrified face, and feigned tears. Jon rolled his eyes and turned his back to the window, directing his attention back to Elias's irritating, empty, placations..

“He got stuck to Rosie. Literally, stuck to her. By some kind of magic-I-don’t-even-know-nonsense.”

“Well that’s a shame for Tim and Rosie. But their work hasn’t suffered, so I hardly see why I should care.”

“Because now they’re _dating._ They got stuck together despite the fact that they _hated_ each other, and a week later they’re making out on top of the sound board.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just bitter that Tim is happy?” 

Tim coughed into the microphone. It sounded suspiciously like agreement.

“Happy-“ Jon scoffed again.

“Yes, _happy,_ and you’re annoyed that you’re forced to watch it.”

“That is ridiculous-“ he was not jealous of _Tim_. Jon was at the Institute to get an _education,_ and it was hardly his fault that he was apparently the only person in the bloody uni who actually had his priorities in order.

“Jon, I really do not have time for this conversation. My _point_ in coming in here – no do not interrupt me.” Jon paused, his tirade frozen. “My _point_ is that I have recruited you a new co-host.”

“I’ve never had a co-host.”

“Well now you do. Congratulations. He starts Thursday.”

“You can’t force me to share my radio show with a _stranger._ ”

“You’re absolutely right. I cannot. What I _can_ do, Jonathan, is ensure that you are no longer permitted to have a radio show at all. Now between that, and having a new friend to chat to all about all your _theories_ and _notions_ , I really think you know what the right choice is here.”

Jon remained silent, fuming in his seat as he fiddled with one of the half dozen mind maps which sat in front of him.

“Who.” he muttered grudgingly.

“Pardon?” Elias maintained his pleasant smile, and Jon had no doubt that the insufferable man had heard his question the first time.

“Who.” He spoke louder this time, the dissatisfied set of his jaw forcing the words out through clenched teeth.

“Martin Blackwood. Literature student. I met him at a public poetry reading, in fact.” Now Jon was _sure_ Elias had found this man solely to torture him, because he couldn’t envision any other reason why Elias Bouchard would attend a student poetry night instead of his usual evening plans of spreadsheets and kicking puppies. Elias turned to leave, and Jon's glare followed him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Tim shaking in the booth. 

“Wonderful.”

“He analysed some Keats for the crowd”

Tim's laughter turned to hysterics.

“Fantastic.”

“I’m sure he’ll be _quite_ the tempering influence on you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jon’s fingers drummed on the desk in front of him in overt dissatisfaction. His new co-host had been due to arrive promptly at seven for their seven-thirty time slot. That half hour had been and gone, and since he was loathe to begin a show late due to the _incompetence_ of someone else, he’d been forced to cold open the broadcast alone.

Perhaps he’d been a little harsh, berating his new colleague on air for his lateness and obvious ineptitude, but this kind of unprofessionalism on the first day on the job was, frankly, laughable. He was surprised Elias hadn’t called this Martin to fire him before his arrival – of all people, Elias valued punctuality and organisation more than anyone in the station, much to the chagrin of Tim, the sound technician, who regularly stumbled in late from his myriad of meet-cutes. Tim seemed to be the designated love interest for half the campus at any given time, and always seemed thrilled by his good luck with the institute’s magic. Jon saw it as yet another argument in favour of the magic being malicious in origin, pairing so many unsuspecting men and women with _Tim_ of all people.

Nonetheless, here he was, babbling some _nonsense_ about campus news, as if anyone listening to his show really cared that the ball next month would be fantasy themed, or that an outbreak of rabid squirrels had been placing lunches all over the campus into danger. But the look on Elias’ face told him that if he tried to segue the topic over to actual, important issues, his broadcast would be ending even earlier than the one earlier in the week.

“And, a reminder, please do not use the library as a place to find potential love interests.” He shuddered at the thought. “The library is solely intended as a place of _academic_ progress, and any kissing, canoodling, copulating, or other trope-esque activities should be restricted solely to locations where campus librarians are _not_ forced to bear witness?” His statement twisted to one of horrified disbelief. “What kind of public notice- this is _ridiculous,_ why on _earth_ would people be hooking-up in the library of all places?”

Tim wiggled his eyebrows from behind the sound booth, eyes locked on Rosie, who apparently still had yet to find him as repulsive as she had the week before, and Jon felt his stomach turn.

“As someone who regularly uses library resources for research for my segments, I beg you all on _my_ behalf to find literally anywhere else to have these… dalliances. I’ve been hearing excellent reviews of the coffee at Section 31, so I recommend you try there as a starting point. The bar- Elias I am _not_ saying this. Elias-“ The screeching feedback in his ears suggested that his boss was not happy with his deviation from script.

“The baristas will bring… a… latte love… to your day.” Elias gave two thumbs up, eyes cold in contrast to his sharp smile.

“Fantastic. And as my new _, clearly inept_ co-host has still not arrived, I supposed we shall have to begin a text-in segment, as I optimistically assumed that someone on his _first day_ would actually have something planned to talk about on the show, or indeed, would at least _show up_.”

Jon rang off his personal phone number onto the airways, and even as the first text buzzed in, seconds after he finished reciting it, the door to the studio burst open, and a dishevelled, red faced man burst into the room.

“I am _so sorry,_ I ran as fast as I could, but I got accosted by a squirrel, and you know how the campus squirrels are, well of course you do, you just gave a notice about them, ha, but I really am-“

“Will you _be quiet?!_ ” Jon hissed. “We’re on the air!”

“Oh of course, I’m really-“

“How did you know about the notice? Were you listening to my show on the way over here? Is that why you were late?”

“Um, it’s our show right- sorry, sorry! But yes, I always listen, obviously I was planning on being on time, but when my bus onto campus was late I figured I’d listen on my headphones while I ran and-“

“I thought a squirrel made you late.”

“It was the bus first. _Then_ the squirrel. It’s been an eventful afternoon. But I’m here now! It’s lovely to meet you Jon!” The man beamed, and Jon flinched from the force of it. Even his voice was bright, chirpy, the exact opposite of Jon’s serious, heavy voice. This man really seemed like he’d be more suited to a fun show like Georgie’s breakfast show, _What the toast!,_ not Jon’s late evening anti-conspiracy show (veering a little towards just the conspiracy element in recent episodes).

Suddenly, Jon noticed the outstretched hand, which clearly had been extended for long enough to make even this Martin uncomfortable. He withdrew it hesitantly, smile still fixed, although wavering a little more than before. “I really love your show!”

“As you so aptly pointed out, it’s our show now, thanks to Elias.” Elias seemed to be barely paying attention, now his self-touted _tempering influence_ had crashed into the studio. “Perhaps we should begin?”

“Right, of course! What are we doing?”

“I thought you were listening.”

“Up until about a minute ago, yeah! But then I had to convince your security guard to let me in – she is _scary_ , isn’t she?”

“Security- Rosie?” Rosie was primarily an administrative volunteer for the studio, helping to collate student bulletins and the like, since the tiny radio station had really no need for any kind of security. Clearly, if she was spending her free time masquerading as station security, then Tim’s mischievous nature had been rubbing off on her far too much.

“Yeah, she refused to let me in. Said I didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d co-host a show with someone like you.”

“Someone like- that doesn’t matter right now. Currently, we are taking texts from viewers to share the thoughts and problems of our audience.”

“You don’t normally do that though, do you?”

Jon grit his teeth. “I do not. However, since this show was supposed to be primarily structured around introducing you, and you were _conspicuously_ absent, I improvised.”

“Ah, I’m sorr-“

“But since you’re here now-“ Jon cut Martin off before he apologised yet again and caused him to have a conniption, “why don’t you tell our audience a little about yourself while I have a quick look at the many, _many_ texts I have now received from what appears to be every student at the uni.”

“Oh, of course! Good idea Jon!” Martin beamed as he used Jon’s name, which Jon could only interpret as some kind of irritating tic, entertained whenever he remembered a strangers name successfully.

“So, um. I’m Martin. I’m twenty-two, I’m a second year English literature and language student, and I really love your show! I’m really excited to get to work with you, and to learn how to work on radio. I mostly have experience in improv speaking from um, poetry reading analyses and stuff!”

“I heard. Keats, correct?” Jon didn’t glance up from his phone as he spoke, trying to find a message which he could actually use to start a conversation with, that wasn’t simply someone berating him from his earlier rant about Martin at the beginning of the show, when he was clearly _‘really trying Jon!_ ’ (that one was from Georgie). He agreed. Martin was very _trying_.

“Um. Yes, sometimes! Do you like Keats?”

“I do not.”

“Oh. That’s okay! He can be a little divisive. But um, I actually write a lot of my own poetry too!”

“Of _course_ you do.”

“Huh?”

“You seem the type.”

“Oh. Thank you!” _Not a compliment_ , Jon thought, but from the influx of fan texts for Martin already, he thought it best not to antagonise both his new co-host and his audience through further derision.

“Right. I think this will work.”

“You found a good text?”

“I believe so, yes. We’re going to put the conspiracy theories aside this week, at the bequest of our station manager-“ Elias nodded, approving. “And discuss some of the issues of our listeners at home.”

“That’s a great idea Jon!”

“Hmm. So we have a text here from- from Hot Hunty. Good god, really?”

Martin snorted. Jon raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s just, it’s funny right? If you’re gonna pick a pseudonym, might as well make it have aplomb right?”

Jon paused, torn between curiosity and an unwillingness to admit ignorance. As it usually did, curiosity won. “Aplomb?”

“Um, self-assurance, I guess? I think it’s great that she knows she’s attractive!”

“I suppose it is, yes. I can’t fault her for having a good self-image.”

“You get it! So what’s Hot Hunty worried about?”

“She says- hold on.” Jon cleared his throat. He prided himself on an immersive experience during his show, and always tried to imitate voices and tics when reading statements or messages from others. He thought he heard Martin squeal from next to him, and, in an act of mental strength, ignored it. “Hi Jon, great to meet you Martin, emoji, emoji, emoji.”

“Aren’t you going to read the emojis?”

“My phone doesn’t have them. They all just look like little boxes.”

“What? What phone do you have?”

Jon tilted his reliable Nokia towards Martin so he could see the brand, who let out a horrified gasp. “I realise you can’t see, listeners, so I’m going to have to describe the _relic_ that Jon is passing for a phone.”

“It’s reliable.”

“It’s ancient! When did you _get this?_ ”

“2005.”

“Wow. Well, I guess we know you’re the sentimental type now, right!” Martin laughed, and rattled off his own phone number for people who actually wanted to utilise emojis to use.

Martin actually had hit pretty close, with his jokey sentimentality statement. This had been Jon’s first and only phone, given to him by his grandmother way back when he was six and first started walking home from school on his own. He’d always been concerned about the strain of raising a child at her age, and had been largely semi-indepenent most of his life, to minimise his burden. This had cumulated in him taking both his GCSE’s and A-levels early, doing both AS and A-levels simultaneously, (with considerable aid from student finance), and starting university at just 16. This phone had been with him the whole time, including when his grandmother had died two years prior, and he was loathe to replace it with some shiny, meaningless model, just so he could use _emojis_.

He said none of this, obviously, and simply let off a hollow laugh, and continued reading the statement. “Anyway, I have a problem, and I thought you and your _logical approach_ could help. There’s this cute barista at the coffee shop I like to go to. She’s super kind, and funny, and doodles little hearts on my cup. The thing is, how do I know if she’s doing it because she actually likes me, or because she’s trying to get tips or something? It it weird if I just ask her for her number- I don’t want her to feel like I’m harassing her at work, or something? Thanks!” He let out a breath, switching back to his usual voice. “Well, that _is_ a predicament.”

“Wow, I don’t envy you Hunty!” Martin cut in. “But if she’s doodling hearts, I’m sure she’s doing it because she _wants_ you to ask her out!”

“Not necessarily. Doesn’t everyone at Section 31 flirt with customers?”

“Well, I mean, it is the-“

“Do _not_ say ‘it’s the trope!’. I’m so sick of people using that stupid excuse to justify everything that happens on this godforsaken campus.”

“It’s cute!”

“It’s _infuriating._ Baristas shouldn’t feel _obligated_ to flirt with customers on the _off-chance_ once of them will fall hopelessly in love with them.”

“But that’s part of the charm of Section 31! And of the Magnus Institute!”

“It’s a marketing campaign.”

“It’s _romantic._ And anyway, that’s just part of the magic of the Institute, right? Everyone falls in love here! Ever since Jonah Magnus and Robert Smirke fell in love and established the institute!”

“A myth, I’m sure. What kind of couple establish a university out of love?”

“A romantic one!”

“But what if people don’t _want_ to fall in love?”

“I’m sure they don’t _have_ to!”

“Hmm. I wonder.” Sometimes Jon felt like he couldn’t step outside his door without side-stepping tropes. The library was full of meet-cutes over shared books, the coffee shop endless messages on cups, TAs constantly fell in love with class members, sports teams won in the last second every match. Meanwhile, he just wanted to get his degree, get a job, and get out. And host a moderately successful radio show along the way.

“Well _I_ think Hunty should just ask this barista out. Worst case scenario, they say no.”

  
“Worst case scenario, they feel obligated to accept because they’ve been accepting Hunty’s tips for weeks.”

“Someone wouldn’t do that!”

“They would if they were strategic.”

“That’s horrible!”

“I’m not saying I agree, only that that’s what someone who’s trying to pay back their student loans should do from a tactical perspective.”

Martin burst out laughing. “Wow, I- you really are cynical, aren’t you. I wondered if it was just an act for the show, but-“

“I just tell things as I see them.”

“That’s great, actually. I like honesty.” His eyes crinkled softly, and Jon felt his face flush slightly. He coughed, and returned to the broadcast.

“ _Anyway_ , as you can see, we have a difference of opinion here, Hunty. But communication is always important, Martin is-“ He took a drink of water to aid the words. “Martin is correct. You should talk to this barista, and see how they feel. But perhaps don’t jump straight to asking them out-“

“Unless they seem like they really want you to!”

“Unless- why don’t we let Hunty decide from here, Martin.” Martin laughed sheepishly, but did not seem particularly admonished.

The rest of the show continued in a similar vein, with Martin and Jon offering differing stances on the various tropes across campus, although generally coming to a consensus on most cases, since despite their vastly conflicting approaches, optimism versus cynicism, Martin was, admittedly, very good at giving advice.

“So I think you should probably accept you _might_ be into bondage, but that doesn’t mean that you should immediately jump straight to pet play without keeping it safe, sane, and consensual! Do you agree Jon?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Great! Thanks for the text 696969420! Also, please don’t use numbers as pseudonyms guys! It confuses the contacts on my phone!” As the show had progressed, texts had begun to be more evenly split between Jon and Martin’s phones, as evidenced by Martin choosing a text from a kink-conflicted listener to consult on, the kind of message Jon would usually have vehemently ignored.

“Well, I think we’re just about out of time.”

“Ah, I um, I bought you a present as a thank you for letting me on the show.” Martin handed Jon a beautifully wrapped box, complete with ribbon and bow, which Jon hesitantly unwrapped, aware they were still on air, and cautious as to what Martin, a man whom he had never met before, would think an appropriate gift for a stranger. He paused at the contents.

“It’s earl grey tea! Loose leaf, I think that makes it better. I don’t like it much, but I remember how you mentioned you had it a lot as a child on one of your shows – I think it was the one on the Berenstain bears? When you were saying how your grandmother used to make you both tea and read you books? Anyway, I thought you might like to have some in! Although, I suppose if you like it, you already probably have some at home, sorry, that was a stupid-“ Martin was rambling and a little flushed, like this single box of tea held some great significance.

“No, I- I don’t have any at home. I don’t usually buy… tea.” In this final year of his course, Jon’s budget was stretched so tight he could barely afford cereal some weeks, let alone luxuries such as expensive tea. “I- thank you.”

“No problem! I hope you like it – I can make you a cup after the show if you like! I’m pretty good at making tea, and we can have a chat about future episodes and stuff!”

“That’d be… nice. Thank you.”

“Of course!”

“Um.” Jon paused for several seconds, before Tim’s waving drew him back to reality. “Right. The show. This has been Statement Begins, with Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood. Goodnight, Magnus Institute.” The beep which signalled the end of the show rang out, and Jon scowled at Tim’s hysterical laughter, silenced by the pyrex between them, but infuriating to watch.

Martin coughed, bringing him out of his annoyance. “So… about that tea?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! i have proof-read this, but not well, so let me know if you spot any mistakes haha - hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Jon and Martin go on a series of stakeouts which are not dates (but are not *not* dates either), and fail to notice anything of importance.

**Section 31: Stakeout #1**

Closed hands hugged the empty-mug, cold fingers soothed by the residual warmth left behind by the now-drained tea. Blue cracks running under the aged ceramic mirrored his own veins. He flexed, watching absently as his palms and nails flushed red.

“Jon?”

He wondered how the listeners from last week’s show were doing. He was convinced, of course, that the hopeless crush of Hunty on a Section 31 barista was, _inevitably,_ doomed to be successful. It was a common occurrence on campus, love stories too improbable to be true anywhere else tying up perfectly at a rate far too high to be mere coincidence.

“Um.. are you okay?”

So he had to investigate, of course. It was a compulsion – a hyperfixation, one therapist had called his tendency to latch onto one interest until he’d drained it of all fascinating potential. Other children had mostly just called it weird (changing to ‘fucking freaky’, as he aged through secondary school). He knew Elias wouldn’t tolerate him shifting the tone of his radio show to gain evidence more than it already had. Despite being a fan of the new question and answer format, he had been quite vocal in his disdain for Jon’s ‘deluded ranting’, and had sternly warned him against harassing any of their new text-in-listeners for any more information than they felt comfortable providing.

“Right. I’ll just… wait here. Let me know when you’re… back?”

Several hours (days) spent on the TV-tropes webpage had been remarkably illuminating. He was no stranger to common tropes in fiction, of course, having consumed every kind of novel, series, novella, magazine, and leaflet he could get his hands on a child, loving the variation. Even he’d noted the reoccurrence of some common scenarios, and he’d found them incredibly grating, the lack of originality in the author’s ideas made many books uncomfortably familiar within genres. He never had the stomach for romance novels anyway.

So alarm bells had been ringing right from the start, but now he had a _list._

  * _Sharing a bed – Tim_
  * _Fake relationship - Tim_
  * _Stuck together (magic???) – Tim (and Rosie)_
  * _Coffee shop (specifically, section 31) – visit this week – Basira (you know, the Barista?)_
  * _SECRET ROYALTY ON CAMPUS? - investigate_
  * _Reincarnation??? (surely not.)_



Of course, working at the radio station, a large number of tropes on that list had been filled in from his observations of the life of Tim. Tim and Jon had known each other for nearly a year, and in that time, the man had found himself the focus of a seemingly never ending parade of meet-cutes, coincidences, and other romantic encounters, all of which ended remarkably well for the man. Rosie was a _particularly_ aggravating case where Jon was positive there must be magic at work, since the two had both despised each other, and had so little in common that there was no basis for a relationship whatsoever. He’d be surprised if it lasted a week.

And that wasn’t even addressing the non-romantic tropes. This year alone two separate pairs of identical twins, separated from birth, had been reunited in lectures.

The rugby team were another example, always scoring a winning try in the last 30 seconds of any game, odds stacked against them, and romantic partners of the team members running in at the last second to cheer their support.

Accounts of amnesia were shockingly common as well. Jon knew for a _fact_ that retrograde amnesia was a startlingly rare occurrence, and yet the sheer number of accidents which resulted in angst-inducing memory loss (usually selective of only lovers or family members) had resulted in a neurological society establishing a base at the university for clinical research. They’d published 6 papers this year.

There was the group of attractive, aloof seniors, who’d all been felled for the love of one seemingly ordinary girl.

Every professor seemed to be dating their polar opposite departmentally – physicists with poets, mathematicians with historians.

And he couldn’t figure out _why._

Jon snapped out of his reverie suddenly, as the mug of tea in front of him was pulled away for a steaming replacement. Martin shrugged, a sheepish half smile affixed to his face as he returned to the seat he had apparently vacated without Jon’s notice.

“I didn’t want to disturb you while you were thinking, but I figured you probably don’t like cold tea.”

“Um. Right. Thank you, Martin.” Did the man have to be so goddamn _considerate?_ He had only been introduced to the show in the first place as a last ditch attempt from Elias to prevent Jon finding out the _truth,_ it would only be more difficult to work around him if he actually _liked_ him.

He sipped the tea. It was good. A little sweet. Martin had clearly paid attention to the mug Jon had made himself back at the radio station, and damn if that wasn’t irritatingly considerate.

He pulled his notebook towards him and returned to scribbling down his thoughts. His main goal this week had been to investigate Section 31, and find out what exactly was going on with the baristas here. Why Martin had joined him, he wasn’t quite sure, but he could only assume it was under Elias’s instructions to prevent him from traumatising the staff of the only decent coffee shop on campus.

“Um. Can I help, at all?”

“How did the barista seem? When you went to get the drinks?”

“She seemed… fine? Made the drinks very quickly.”

“Did she seem, I don’t know, coerced, somehow?”

“Why would she seem _coerced?”_

“Did she flirt with you? Give you her number?”

Martin spluttered mid-sip, grabbing at napkins to clean up the spilled tea as his face flushed crimson.

“Why would she _flirt_ with me?”

“Isn’t that the pull of Section 31? To find a barista love interest?”

“I thought the pull was the coffee- and anyway, she wouldn’t flirt with me, I’m here with you!”

“Why would that make a difference?”

“I- never mind.” He shook his head. “She was very nice and polite and made a good cup of tea, which is _pretty_ unusual for a coffee shop. That’s all I really noticed.” He sighed and leant back in the armchair.

“Damn.” Jon had been sure that it was a marketing gimmick of the shop, much like he suspected the tropes acted as a gimmick for the whole university. But if she wasn’t being forced to flirt with all the customers as part of her job (admittedly, a relief), then that opened up the possibility that Jon didn’t want to consider. That it was just the Institute’s _magic._

“We should probably… go?” Martin cut in again. Jon realised he had, once again, gone off on a mental tangent, and another hour had passed. His tea was, once again, stone cold. He downed it all the same. He was used to cold tea.

“You’re right. Elias won’t be happy if you’re late to the show again.”

Martin winced, and went to grab Jon’s coat for him. Jon had already left the shop.

**Section 31: Stakeout #2**

Jon had agreed to get the tea this week. It seemed only fair, tit-for-tat and all that nonsense his grandmother had instilled into him. After all, Martin had been the one to fetch all six rounds of crappy café quality tea at their last stakeout, while Jon sat in contemplative silence.

He wasn’t sure why the coffee shop was so busy. It was 5pm on a Thursday, two hours before the two of them needed to be at the radio station, since Jon refused to miss any classes for this stakeout, no matter how determined ( _paranoid,_ Tim’s voice echoed) he was to see this through. But, despite this being prime time to study, to get a seat in the library for a couple of hours before dinner, the cosy, low lit café was instead full of students _socialising._

Martin had managed to grab the two of them a seat, fortunately. For all his punctuality issues when he first started on the show, he’d been remarkably considerate these last two visits to Section 31. Jon could only assume that he was perhaps already here. _Socialising._ He seemed like the type of person to make _friends_ in lectures.

(What Jon did not know was that Martin had arrived 45 minutes early both times, in order to secure a seat in the quieter corner of the café, since he knew Jon preferred soft murmuring to loud gossiping when observing (stalking)).

Martin had, exactly as expected, requested an English breakfast tea. Three sugars and plenty of milk, Jon had noted, _not_ that he was interested in how Martin liked to drink his tea. He was just being _observant._

Jon, not one to be outdone in predictability, ordered an Earl grey. There was barely any point in ordering tea at a café, in his opinion. It was never steeped long enough, and you were ultimately paying extortionate prices for a five pence teabag and a mug of tepid water.

“You do realise it’s more economical to order a pot of tea, rather than a mug.”

“Well yes, but-“

“And that way you get to add the milk yourself, rather than having to deal with a _milk first_ approach” (The barista who had attempted this with Jon’s tea had flinched under the weight of the passive aggressive throat clearing of her steely eyed customer. Jon had a sneaking suspicion that in just two visits the café had adopted the radio station’s stance on the two of them – namely, a clear and unquestionable preference for Martin.)

“But I like going up to get lots of drinks. You get to, you know, chat while you order.”

“Why on _Earth_ would you do that.”

“To be, I don’t know, social I guess?”

Jon’s gaze remained blank and unenlightened.

Behind them, both failed to notice the blatant courtship of Basira (you know, the Barista?) and a girl with a daisy tattoo.

**Section 31: Stakeout #3**

“Been seeing you two in here a lot recently.” Basira remarked, as she scribbled Martin’s name on two paper cups. It was spelt wrong, of course. Martin had corrected her the first few times it had happened on campus, before being assured that baristas spelling your name wrong was in fact romantic and funny and _very_ tropey. At which point, he’d resigned himself to a life of Marvin, Matty, and, once, Tintin (although he suspected this was more a case of the barista actively mocking him for his thick glasses).

He and Basira got on pretty well. He hadn’t mentioned this to Jon. It felt wrong, to throw his new semi-friend under the bus just because he had a crush on her semi-stalker (even if Jon wasn’t _intentionally_ stalking Basira, just the trope which seemed to be following her).

“Oh, Jon?”

“Yeah. He’s the crazy radio guy, right?”

“Crazy seems a little-“

“No, no, we love it. Always have his show on for the evening shift – you’d be amazed how quiet the hordes of caffeine addicts go when he’s ranting.”

“Do you listen?”

“God no. I avoid the evenings whenever I can. 7pm is the latest I can bring myself to work, after that I just want to have a shower and go to bed.”

“Oh. Well it’s a good show. Um. I’m actually on it too, now!” Martin flushed, worried he was coming across as boastful to his new semi-friend (was it _presumptuous_ to call her a semi-friend?)

“No joke? Huh, maybe I’ll tune in tonight then.”

“Oh you should! We’re doing it mainly as a text in show now – I think Elias may have been a little unhappy with all of the- uh- conspiracy, stuff.”

“Yeah, it was getting a bit much, from what I heard. Let sleeping tropes lie and all that, you know?”

“Do you not worry, though? Like, what if people _are_ being controlled by creepy magic that forces them all to fall in love and every coffee you make to be perfect for each customer?”

“I’m a kick-ass barista, my drinks are perfect with or without creepy trope magic. And last I checked, I wasn’t falling in love with anyone.” Basira handed over the drinks and smiled, laughing as Martin fumbled with the cups as he approached Jon.

And then Daisy walked in, and Basira realised that maybe (just _maybe)_ she hadn’t been _entirely_ honest with Martin.

**Section 31: Stakeout #4**

“Perhaps this flirtation is simply a fabrication on the part of-“ Jon cleared his throat. “ _Hot hunty_.”

Martin choked on his tea in laughter, as he did every time Jon was forced to state their regular listener comma texter’s name during their, now weekly, stakeout sessions (not dates, they were _not_ dates.)

“Do you- do you call her that in your notes?” Still laughing, Martin gestured down to Jon’s notebook, steadily filling up with observations despite the lack of concrete evidence gained over the last three weeks.

“Well, it’s not as if we have any other alias to call her by! My point is, I have weeks of notes on observations of this barista, and we have yet to once notice any kind of interaction of the kind Hot Hunty has been describing in her weekly updates!” Jon gesticulated wildly. _Adorable,_ Martin thought, and immediately suppressed.

Time for a topic change. “What kind of stuff do you write in there anyway?”

“Observations, theories, notes for the show. It’s somewhat of an everything notebook.” Jon paused. “I’ve been doing it since I was young, if I’m honest. Writing down anything interesting I read or see which I think might be relevant later. It does bugger up my hands a bit though, constantly scribbling.”

“You could switch to tape recorders?”

“That’s… not a terrible idea.”

Martin _beamed._

Jon flushed crimson and busied himself with writing in his journal.

Daisy slipped Basira (you know, the barista?) her number.

As per usual, neither Martin nor Jon noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean, they tried.
> 
> hope everyones keeping safe right now! (and enjoying the new season - i have so many feelings about everything thats happening ahhh)


	4. Chapter 4

“Hi Jon! _Big_ fan of the show.” 

“As you should be!” His cohost grinned across at him, interrupting his text-monologue.

Martin loved to chat during the messages – loathe as Jon was to admit it, the man was a natural on-air. However, Jon preferred to get to the point of their listener’s messages, rather than talking over and through them, and didn’t necessarily appreciate the interruptions, even if they did make for ‘better radio’ (Georgie’s words, after listening to their first couple of broadcasts. She was a _big_ fan of Martin).

“Um, yes.” He shook himself back into character.” I was wondering if you and Martin could give me some advice. I’m _technically_ heir to a somewhat powerful family, and I’ve been keeping this on the DL while at uni, because obvs I don’t want people to like, treat me differently or whatever.”

“Jon, this proves your secret royalty conspiracy!” Martin cut in, excited.

“It’s not a consp- _anyway._ “ Jon continued. “There’s this girl in the library, who keeps taking out a really important textbook exactly when I need it, and like, there’s only one copy of this textbook I can actually use?

So this was, like, super annoying, but then I went to confront her about it because _sometimes_ I have poor impulse control, and she actually has, like, a _really_ cute voice, and was super funny and charming or whatever. So, like, I asked her out on a study date so we could share the textbook or talk about class or stuff, don’t really remember what excuse I used LOL.

Problem is, her voice was also, like, kind of familiar, and I think she _might_ be heir to a family which is kind of like a rival to mine? Which obviously wouldn’t be, you know, great, for the whole family inheritance stuff. Do you think I should pursue the relationship?”

Jon coughed, and dropped his voice back to its normal intonation, taking a breather from the sheer number of ‘ _likes_ ’ and contractions in the message.. “Thank you, um, King.”

“That is… a lot to unpack in one text.”

“King is _very_ on the nose for a pseudonym here, if they are actually royalty.”

“To be fair, they could be mafia.”

“I hope not, then I’m under considerably more pressure to give good advice. Shockingly, I actually _like_ having functional knees.”

“I heard of a guy in the mafia who liked to steal peoples ribs, maybe they’ll do that instead.”

Jon paled slightly.

“Sorry, sorry.” Martin laughed. “Any thoughts on this one, Jon?”

“Well firstly, I’m not going to say I told you so regarding any tropes which may or may not be present here, because, despite popular opinion, I actually like my job, and don’t want to give station management a reason to fire me. But please know, listeners, how desperately I want to.”

“I mean, this is basically _two_ classic tropes, right? Secret royalty _and_ library shenanigans? Fighting over a textbook? It’s pretty romantic!” Martin sighed dreamily.

“I think an argument could be made for star crossed lovers as well.” Tim cut in over the intercom.

“Yes, _thank you_ Tim, sound technician who doesn’t host this show.”

“You both know I’m the backbone of this broadcast.”

“And much like my _actual_ backbone, I prefer you _silent._ ”

Martin guffawed, and Tim pulled a face, returning to the soundboard.

“And I wouldn’t call this romantic so much as a _very bad idea_. If your families hold political power, then causing conflicts between your two countries is honestly, a little selfish.”

“Could be mafia, to be fair.”

“That’s even worse! Haven’t you _seen_ West Side Story?”

“Um. No?” A pause. “Have _you?”_

Jon fell silent.

“You have! Jon, are you secretly a musical theatre fan?” Martin sounded absolutely thrilled at this revelation, and Jon quickly moved to stop it in its tracks.

“Not relevant to the discussion, Martin.”

“Oh really? But I’m sure our listeners would love to hear more about the enigmatic host of their favourite radio show.”

“Pretty sure Georgie hosts their favourite radio show.”

“What The Toast _is_ a triumph.” Martin admitted. “Favourite evening radio show, then.”

“Fine. Yes, I quite enjoy some musical theatre. My tastes are broad and varied, Martin, I am a multi-faceted human, and contrary to popular opinion, I don’t spend _all_ my time coming up with conspiracy theories. I have outside interests.”

Martin beamed at this, and Jon grumbled before returning to the message on his Nokia. “As the voice of reason King, I recommend you speak to this library girl about your concerns. _Directly_. Ninety percent of relationship problems arise from miscommunication, and considering she accepted your offer of a date, she’s clearly interested, and would probably appreciate you letting her know about potential conflict early on.”

“But that’s not very trope-y!” Martin cut in. “They should pine for each other a little first, the whole will-they-won’t-they dynamic just builds the romantic tension in the relationship.”

“I just think these things are easier when people are forthright and communicate with people they have a crush on. Are you saying you think it’s better to pine than just tell the person you like how you feel?”

“Well, I mean… sometimes, yes! Sometimes you aren’t sure how the other person will respond, and it’s better to take your time and assess the situation first!”

Jon hummed in response, deciding it wasn’t worth the inevitable debate which would ensue from pursuing this topic with Martin. Martin, for all he attempted to hide it around Jon, was clearly a romantic. Jon wouldn’t be surprised if he was one of the students who’d applied to the university due to the lure of the Magnus Institute Magic, hoping to find his inevitable, trope-laden love story while he was here. As far as Jon could tell ( _not_ that he’d been watching Martin), the man was single and hadn’t been on any dates during the time they’d been spending together, so evidently he had yet to find success.

“I think you should see where the relationship goes first, and keep your identity a secret until you’re sure that this girl feels the same, King.”

“I feel like this is one of those situations where we need to agree to disagree.” Jon sighed. “King, if you want to make a coherent decision based on actual common-sense, take my advice. If you want to follow the logic of some half-baked, half-explained, campus-magic, which may or may not _control your free-will_ , listen to Martin.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to believe in magic,” Martin huffed.

“And I’m very glad you’re taking that stance as co-host of my anti-conspiracy conspiracy show.”

“I think you mean _our_ anti-conspiracy conspiracy show.” Martin grinned.

“Not that we do much conspiracy discussion anymore. Think Elias was on the edge of having a conniption over it.” Jon sighed heavily.

“I mean, I’m sure the governors were none too pleased about your trying to expose the school magic, they must have been on his back about it. Probably threatened to cut his funding or something.” Martin responded, typically trying to find the best in everyone. Jon didn’t bother to explain to Martin why, exactly, there was no point in trying to look for goodness in someone as unerringly unnerving as the radio station’s manager.

“We… probably shouldn’t be theorising over school politics while on air, should we.”

“Probably not, no.” Martin grinned in a conspiratorial way, and Jon flushed slightly.

Jon attempted to change the topic. “Any other texts?”

“Ummm,” Martin bit his lip thoughtfully as he scrolled through the hundreds of messages he’d received during the first half of today’s broadcast. “Lots, as always, but not that many I can, um, read out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know.” Martin replied vaguely.

“I do not.”

“Just, people being nosy ha ha, trying to _butt in_ on my _private_ life.”

“Oh. Really?”

“You have no idea.” He responded darkly. “Oh, here’s one! Want me to read it or do you want the honours?”

“I’ll leave this one for you.”

He beamed, and cleared his throat in preparation. “Dear Martin. I would describe myself as something of an introvert. I don’t have many friends on campus, and quite frankly, I prefer it that way. The problem is, I have recently developed something of a ‘friends with benefits’ situation with someone on campus who, I think, has a similar approach to casual niceties as I do. However, it’s been starting to feel a little like I’m constantly at his beck and call, as he calls off our arrangement and re-instigates it whenever he feels like it, without any care for my feelings. While I am not interested in a romantic relationship, I would like to feel I have at least a _degree_ of control in our dalliances. I would appreciate any advice you can give me.”

“Who texts like this? How _old_ is this person? _Surely_ they’re not a student.”

Martin affixed him with a _look._ “Jon, they message how you speak.”

Jon spluttered, giving Martin an opportunity to continue reading.

“PS – I agree with what I assume the other messages are saying regarding your _obvious_ feelings for- Okay well thank you ‘Lonely and Loving It!’” Martin cut off the message suddenly.

“Aren’t you going to finish the message?”

“I _think_ we’ve gotten the basic gist!” Martin chirped, and laughed nervously, rubbing his neck and averting his eyes. “Any sage advice for ‘Lonely and Loving It’ Jon?”

“Well, considering I’m _considerably_ asexual, I can’t say I particularly relate to any situation where one seeks a sexual relationship without the romantic aspects.”

“Sure, sure.” Martin nodded.

“But I have to say, this person whom you’re pursuing this relationship with seems like they’re a bit of a prick, if you’ll excuse my language.”

Martin nodded in enthusiastic agreement, “Absolutely, it doesn’t sound like they respect you as a person, and even in a non-romantic relationship, that’s a worrying sign.”

“Also, if you’re one of the faculty members, I would like to advise you that approaching students for relationship advice is wildly unprofessional of you.” Jon added sternly.

“Don’t be mean Jon, they’re clearly very conflicted. Ooh!” Martin suddenly exclaimed, as his screen lit up with a notification. “A response!”

“A response?”

“Apparently it’s from the girl that King asked out in the library?”

“The princess?”

“Or mafia.”

“Or mafia.”

“What does it say?”

“One second, I’ll get into character.” Martin shook his head and threw his shoulders back, clearly trying to emulate what, Jon assumed, he thought royalty looked like. “Okay, we’re good.” Jon suppressed laughter.

“Dear JonMartin,”

“Did she forget an and?”

“Um. Sure.” Martin coughed. “Dear Jon and Martin. I think I might be the person who King was talking about in their message. Although, I guess a lot of people start dating in the library, so maybe not, but I _am_ heir to a group of some repute and power. I actually suspected the same thing as King, but she was _very_ cute, so I ignored my suspicions. I would still _love_ to go on the date, but I think my bodyguard would probably object. Does she fancy sneaking out of the dorms this weekend to go on a secret date?” He paused and dropped his voice and posture. “So that was from… stranger? Thanks for getting in touch, stranger!”

“What kind of secret date is organised on the _radio_ of all places?”

“To be fair, I doubt stranger’s bodyguard spends much time listening to student evening shows.”

Jon grumbled. “Everyone on this campus is an _idiot_.”

“Please ignore Jon, he’s just feeling a bit grumpy today. I think a secret date sounds like an _excellent_ idea. You can get to know each other without any of the prejudices of your families, and without your bodyguard third wheeling any of the _romance._ ”

“Oh look. A response.” Jon’s voice was deadpan. “I am _so_ glad my radio show is being used as a place for date organisation.”

“They're royalty Jon.”

“Or Mafia!” Tim cut in.

"Point is, I think they can do whatever they want. We should probably be honoured that multiple members of royalty listen to our show." Martin beamed, optimistic as ever.

“Ugh. Well, I, for one, hope for the Mafia’s sake they’re just royalty, not exactly proving themselves to be criminal masterminds right now. And there’s a phrase I never thought I ‘d say.”

“You're getting off topic! What did King say?” 

“O M G.” Jon sighed heavily. Yet more slang. King was the most grating texter he'd ever had to deal with. “Hi Stranger. Can’t believe you listen to the same radio show as me. L M A O. How does 7pm sound? Can’t wait! Then there’s an inordinate number of emojis and exclamation points.” he paused. “Also, Jon. Stop being a dick to people who aren’t as irritatingly pessimistic as you. Then an angry face. Then a… knife emoji? Is this a threat?”

Tim was in hysterics behind the sound booth. Martin had covered his face with his hands, but the shaking of his shoulders betrayed his laughter.

“Send my love to Martin. King.”

“Ah, thank you King!” Martin beamed.

“And yet another listener falls to the Martin Blackwood fanclub. Hey, maybe King will kill you so he can take over the show!” Tim guffawed onto the airways, suddenly interrupted by Jon yanking hard on a wire in irritation, unplugging the microphone which connected to the sound booth in a squeal of feedback.

“Remind me to fire Tim.” Jon deadpanned to Martin. Tim, now forcefully silenced, stuck up his middle finger through the soundproof glass separating them.

The rest of the show proceeded in a similar fashion, although, Jon thought thankfully, without the unnecessary additions from the show’s sound technician. Nonetheless, he was surprised by how much, well, fun, he’d been having doing the text in show with Martin. He was still irritated by Elias’s hijacking of his raising awareness of the insidious nature of the Institute’s magic, but this new format was still an excellent method of information gathering on how widespread tropes were on campus.

Friends with benefits was a new one, and he would be keeping a careful eye out for any updates from ‘Lonely and Loving It’ to ensure their relationship didn’t develop into one of pining, which he knew to be a common progression from ‘friends with benefits’ for many tropes.

He also felt vindicated that his preliminary research, which had suggested an unusually high presence of members of the royal family of various small European nations coming to the Institute to live a ‘normal life’, had been proved correct.

He’d initially been made aware of this when having dinner with Georgie one night, who’d mentioned an extremely cute (her words) new assistant on _What the Toast!,_ who had been helping out with their new segment _Toast Hunt UK (_ where listeners texted in descriptions of unusual toast toppings for Georgie to try on air). The assistant, apparently called Melanie, was legally blind due to an accident in childhood, and had accidentally played a voicemail on speakerphone in the studio after one show.

While Georgie’s grasp on French was, admittedly, rudimentary at best, she’d picked up on the words ‘ _altesse royale’_ from the snooty voice on the phone. Ever the journalist, her suspicions had been piqued, and she’d mentioned it to Jon, thinking the man might find it interesting as part of his theories regarding the institute. She’d also requested that he find out whether she was single while he investigate. Jon had adamantly refused, citing a vested interest in staying _well away_ from his ex-girlfriend’s current love life.

But, considering that meant there were at least _three_ secret royals on campus that he knew of now, the trope was even more prevalent than he’d originally suspected.

He added an addendum to his notebook, reminding him to go and ~~stalk~~ _investigate_ Melanie when he had a spare few hours.

The show wrapped up, and Jon and Martin headed to the sound-booth, both squeezing past Tim and Rosie, who were making out on top of the table, Tim clearly starved for entertainment since he’d been prevented from hijacking their broadcast.

Unusually, Elias was still in the studio. Normally, the man would leave by 8pm, halfway through their airtime, citing having more important things to do than supervise the romantic predicaments of Statement Begins’ listeners. While there had been a period where he’d stayed for the whole show when he’d been more… _concerned_ about Jon, since Martin’s arrival, he’d largely left the pair to their own devices.

“Good work, both of you. A very… stimulating, broadcast.” Elias always spoke carefully, like each word had some hidden meaning, and it set Jon on edge. “Martin, may I look at your phone briefly?”

“Um… I suppose?” Martin, ever the people-pleaser, handed over his phone, brow furrowed in befuddlement. Jon would have refused and left the studio, and mentally berated Martin for being so accommodating to the infuriating man.

Elias scrolled through Martin’s phone (tapping in the lockscreen code he apparently _somehow_ already knew), before pausing on one of the messages from earlier in the broadcast. He cocked a cool and self-satisfied smirk, and smoothly passed the device back to Martin.

“Much appreciated Martin, thank you.” and Elias turned and swept out of the studio, offering no explanation for his presence, nor his hijacking of Martin’s phone.

The message open was the one from Lonely and Loving It from earlier. Jon couldn’t think of a reason that Elias would be so interested in a text from one of their listeners, particularly considering both Martin and Jon had agreed that Lonely’s partner was clearly a bit of a creep, so they had mostly brushed over that particular text. Perhaps Elias was concerned that someone Jon suspected was a faculty member was texting the show; perhaps it was just a power play to set Martin, already anxious around Elias, more on edge. The man loved exerting his influence over the denizens of the radio station, no matter how Rosie tried to claim the man was genuinely a good guy. Jon didn’t buy it for a minute. Elias set Jon on guard, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.

He shook his head, and went to leave the studio. Martin was still paused behind him, looking down at his phone in confusion. "How did he know my password?" he muttered, anxious.

Jon had an uncharacteristic moment of sympathy for the man, not inoculated to their boss's behaviour from years of exposure, as he himself was.

“Um. Do you… fancy going to grab a tea? To celebrate a good show, I mean? I think Section 31 is still open.” He spoke hesitantly, still unsure of himself around his co-host, despite all their recent camaraderie on air, and their unity against the irritant that was Elias.

Martin lit up, and Jon couldn’t bring himself to regret the offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW this one fought with me haha
> 
> not all ships which appear in the texts will be endgame ;) 
> 
> comments/kudos always appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon does some stalking. Martin gets jealous. Tim is... Tim.

Glancing back before slipping open the library door, Jon attempted to adopt an air of casual nonchalance as he pretended to browse the creaking bookshelves. Melanie, sat on one of the long benches which ran through the centre of the room, had a stack of braille textbooks beside her. Her work, however, seemed to be being neglected in favour of scrolling through her phone, mediated via the chunky purple headphones perched on her shorn hair..

Jon could only imagine Martin’s response if he realised that Jon was stalking a blind girl, but having recently encountered Melanie the day before, when meeting Georgie for a late breakfast after her show, he was less sympathetic. Melanie had face-to-face referred to him as a ‘bit of a twat’, ‘irritatingly paranoid’, and ‘Georgie’s pity ex’, so he wasn’t exactly sympathetically inclined towards the woman.

A figure behind him coughed, and he turned to face a tall black woman wearing thick glases, looking mildly annoyed. He glanced up, and realised that his surreptitious lurking had resulted in his blocking the narrow entrance to the- he glanced up again- library science section.

“Ah. Apologies.” He shuffled to the side to let her in.

The girl smiled gratefully, leaning past him to grab several hefty tomes from directly above his head, blocking Jon from exiting the aisle. As he waited for her to finish collecting the texts, he noticed an older woman lurking behind her, dressed in a long brown skirt and heavy knitted cardigan, who affixed Jon with an unimpressed stare.

He shrunk slightly, but nodded in greeting; his grandmother had always instilled a good value of manners, especially to his elders. Apparently this message had not reached this woman, however, who simply narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Brill, thanks so much!” The girl, now weighed down with her leather bound cargo, slipped past. “I’m Sasha, by the way. Don’t think I introduced myself before.”

“Jon,” he offered in return.

“Ah! From Statement Begins?”

“Oh! Um- yes! That’s me.” he stuttered, taken aback.

“Ah awesome! I love your show! Your theories are always super well researched.” She grinned.

Jon flushed in embarrassed pleasure; it was rare that he was recognised on campus for the show, rarer still that they appreciated the effort he put into it

“Th- thank you!”

“I always appreciate good research. I mean, I’m a library science student-“ She gestured to the shelves. “Obviously.”

Jon paused. He was terrible at small talk at the best of times, let alone with a stranger while he pretended he _wasn't_ stalking his ex-girlfriend's crush.

There was an awkward silence.

Jon coughed.

More silence.

“That must be an interesting subject?” he tried.

“Oh, absolutely! Are you researching for the show? I thought you’d moved away from debunking stuff recently?”

He scoffed. “Under duress of my boss and co-host, but yes.” Then realising how suspicious his lurking would appear without justification, he added “but I’m doing some research on-“ He paused. He knew next to nothing about library science, or about archiving in general. “The Dewey decimal system?” Good. That was _definitely_ a library thing. “Which, um, I’m hopeful I’ll be able to present once the show gets back to normal.”

“With Martin though, right? You two have a good dynamic on air.” She smiled benignly, either not noticing or pretending not to notice how her idle comment sent Jon bright red and internally spiralling.

A nearby figure studying at one of the tables shushed the pair, apparently irritated by the impromptu conversation. They both fell apologetically silent, and the older woman huffed and tapped her fingers on her wrist, where a watch would have sat if she was the kind of person who wore watches. Jon had the feeling that this woman would never require something so mundane to know something as simple as the time.

“Ah-“ Sasha had a sudden moment of realisation. “Sorry, I should have thought. This is Gertrude-“ she gestured to the irate woman- “My- roommate?”

“Your _roommate?”_

“I’m a mature student.” The woman spoke flatly. Sasha gave her a fond smile, which Jon thought seemed almost _grateful_ , although that made no sense. He shook off his confusion- if this Gertrude wanted to return to University at a later stage in life, then who was he to judge?

“Sasha, should we not be getting back to the mans-“

“Right!” Sasha interrupted. “Back to the _man_ who is waiting for us back at our _very small_ flat! Absolutely!”

“A man?”

“A- plumber! Gertrude here clogged the toilet. Easily done, right Gertrude?” Sasha smiled hesitantly, rubbing her neck as her eyes darted to the older woman.

“Right.” The woman’s eyebrow twitched.

The two of them had a confusing dynamic, but Jon, surrounded by confusing personalities constantly (it seemed sometimes like he could never escape them), chose to ignore it. If Sasha wanted to live with this strange, imposing, slightly terrifying woman, then who was he to judge?

He noticed that as Sasha left, following behind Gertrude, she slipped a piece of paper onto the seat next to Melanie’s, accidentally knocking the woman’s elbow as she did so.

A casual stroll behind the seat revealed it to be blank, and he didn’t want to risk arousing Melanie’s attention in order to grab a closer look (he wasn’t _scared_ of her, he was just being _cautious_ ). How unusual. Maybe Sasha just wanted to save a seat in the ever-busy library for later, and hoped the paper would be sufficient to scare off the throngs of last-minute-essay-writing first-years.

It wouldn’t be, of course, but maybe he was dealing with another _optimist_ here.

A second glance, over at Melanie herself this time, revealed nothing in particular which would suggest royalty. Her hair, cropped short, was hardly of the style one would expect from a princess (or mafia, Tim and Martin rang in his head in perfect unison, although Melanie was neither Stranger nor King). There was something about her posture, however, something in the way her shoulders were slightly tensed and her head pushed back, even as her fingers skimmed the braille in front of her.

The tension was explained suddenly, as her arm unexpectedly snapped backwards and grabbed his wrist with perfect accuracy, her head remaining fixed facing forward.

“Are you following me? Who. Are. You. With.” she spoke through gritted teeth, face otherwise eerily calm.

“Ah- it’s me! Um, Jon! We met earlier! With Georgie!” His loud, stuttered outburst attracted several hushes from nearby students, and one steely eyed glare from an irate librarian.

“Why the _fuck_ are you following me then.”

Jon could think of no justification, and began to descend into panic. There was a possibility he might have been lying to himself before when he claimed he wasn’t scared of Melanie. The woman was vicious with her words, had the kind of precise, biting anger that called into mind a perfectly sharpened knife blade.

She was exactly Georgie’s type, in short.

Georgie!

“Ah- Georgie asked me to pass on a message to you. She said can you come half an hour earlier tomorrow to help set up?”

“Oh.” The blade blunted briefly. “Why didn’t she text me?” Confused, but not angry.

“She… knew I was going to the library and said you’d probably be here.” God he hoped that sounded legitimate. He prepared to run if he felt her anger rise again.

“Ah, right. Um. Sorry.” She bit her lip. “I’ve had… a few bad situations with people following me before. It kind of sets me on edge.”

“Oh god, of course, I’m so sorry.” Now Jon felt _terrible._ (he also mentally noted that people following Melanie was a solid mark in favour of her being royalty, and then felt bad for using her trauma to gather information).

“No, no, it’s okay. You, um. You didn’t know.”

“I know, but still. God.”

“Hey, look. I’m a little bit… thrown off, right now. Do you want to go and get, I don’t know, coffee or something? I’d like to get to know Georgie’s friends a bit better anyway, she’s pretty cool. She um, told me off for being mean to you yesterday. So like, sorry about that.” She paused, and just as Jon’s estimation of her started to rise, added: “Even if I still do kind of think she probably dated you out of pity.”

He agreed, at least, that Georgie was cool; a small part of him also suspected she might have dated him of pity. So, despite his still pounding heart, he reluctantly accepted the apology, and agreed to head to the coffee shop with her (texting Georgie surreptitiously as they left so she would corroborate his lie to Melanie the following day).

The two spent two hours and several coffees at Section 31, chatting about various topics (if the ins and outs of Georgie’s life could be argued to constitute several subjects). Jon spent the whole time struggling through the bitter drinks, as Melanie had called him a wuss when he went to order tea, and he was still scared enough of her that he’d panic-ordered an espresso instead. (It was disgusting, and Basira had slipped him a sympathy Earl Grey to-go as the pair of them left).

It was only as the sun was setting and the two headed their separate ways that he remembered the paper Sasha had placed next to Melanie in the library; by the time he returned to the darkened building, it was gone.

* * *

Jon arrived at the studio the next evening to chaos, yelling echoing through the cheap plywood door, leading from the student union to the station’s makeshift offices.

“You know what? I can’t _imagine_ what I saw in you! Maybe Jon was right!” Rosie’s voice rang out.

“Baby, no! This is no time for hysterics! How could you even _say_ something like that?”

Both offended and intrigued, Jon hesitantly opened the door, and was greeted by the sight of a clearly distraught Rosie gathering up an assortment of clutter from her desk into her arms.

He paused, and both occupants of the small room turned towards him. Rosie let out a huff of irritation, and, pushing past Jon, still standing awkwardly in the doorway, stormed out the room.

Jon and Tim both looked at each other.

A pause.

“So… me and Rosie broke up.” Tim sang, casual tone not reflecting the upset that literally _any other person_ would feel after being dumped by their girlfriend, Jon noted exasperatedly.

“I’d figured that much out for myself, _thank you_ Tim. What happened?”

“Oh, the usual. I was effortlessly charming, she was effortlessly beautiful, words were said, words were escalated, lipstick was thrown.” he sighed. “What a woman,” he added wistfully.

Jon accepted that this was probably as much of an explanation as he was going to get. The majority of Tim’s relationships ended in this manner, and Tim took great pleasure in being perfectly vague, _particularly_ when talking to Jon. “You’re a nightmare.”

“Funny, that’s what Rosie said too. Speeaaaking of Rosie, we need to find a new administrative assistant.”

“What? She quit the _show_ as well?”

“Either that or we need a much bigger office, since she requested I never come within 6 feet of her again, and this show pays too well with too little work for _me_ to be the one who leaves.”

“You raise a good point. What work do you even _do_ here since we stopped playing songs?”

“I elevate our average attractiveness by a solid 4.2 average. And with Rosie gone, and both you and Elias dragging the team down, you _need_ me.”

“There’s Mar- never mind.” Tim raised his eyebrows. Jon flushed. “Ugh. Elias is going to be so annoyed that Rosie quit. This is _your_ fault, you realise. I _told_ you an office romance was a bad idea.”

“Can I help it if I’m this irresistible?”

“Clearly not _that_ irresistible, considering Rosie couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

“A _definite_ lapse of judgement on her part.”

Jon elected to ignore Tim, instead moving into the studio and, grabbing his phone, texted Georgie.

_Hi Georgie_

_Slight favour to ask. We’re down an admin assistant (Tim’s fault, obviously)– I don’t suppose you know anyone who fits the bill?_

_ASAP would be better – need someone to sort through the notices for tonight’s show._

_Jon_

Georgie replied within minutes.

_2 favours in 2 days? wow u owe me so many coffees rn lol_

_but I actually know someone perfect – friend of Melanies_

_she’ll be there in within an hour if ur happy to wait_

_also u realise u don’t need to sign off texts right? lmaoooo_

Martin would probably already be waiting at Section 31 for their weekly stakeout. He’d actually forgotten to check whether Basira was working tonight, but could hardly cancel on Martin at such short notice.

“Tim, since _you’re_ the reason we don’t have an admin assistant for today’s show, you’ll have _no problem_ waiting in for Rosie’s replacement, right?”

Tim groaned and complained, but ultimately acquiesced, grudgingly accepting some of the blame for their current predicament. “Who am I waiting for?”

“No idea. She’ll be here within an hour though.”

“Ooh, she cute?”

“As I _said,_ I have no idea.” He paused, considering taking pity on Tim, before dismissing the idea out of hand. The man had made his own bed (and invited Rosie to join him), so now he would have to lie in it. ”I have plans. Goodbye.”

And Jon had swept out of the office, taking no small degree of pleasure in knowing he’d managed to inconvenience Tim’s afternoon. He wondered if this was how Elias felt all of the time? Then, realising he was drawing a comparison between himself and Elias, he suppressed the thought with a shudder.

Martin beamed as he entered the shop, and he grabbed a seat, noting the absence of Basira at the counter.

“Ah, she took off early today, you just missed her. She had a _date_ apparently.” Martin chimed, noting the direction of his gaze.

“A date? Who with?”

“Some girl with a daisy tattoo wearing a wooly pink cardi I think? Kind of small, kind of intimidating?”

Sounded a lot like Melanie, pink aside, Jon thought, although he hadn’t noticed whether she had any tattoos the previous day.

“Shorn hair?”

“Nah, closer to shoulder length. She seemed nice!”

“You think _everyone_ seems nice.”

“What can I say, I’m an optimist!” Martin grinned, eyes glinting in challenge, throwing the title back at Jon, who usually used it as a takedown of Martin’s lack of cynicism regarding the tropes on campus.

Jon was _not_ an optimist, but there was a small part of him that was actually starting to find Martin's positivity just a tiny bit endearing.

Laughing in genuine amusement at Martin's jibe and taking a sip of his tea, Jon took a moment to relish the warmth as it seeped into his cold fingers. Winter was fast approaching, and he’d forgotten to grab his gloves in his rush to meet Martin.

“So. Reckon daisy girl was Hot Hunty?” Martin continued.

“I suppose she certainly could be, although I hadn’t really envisioned Hot Hunty as being the kind of person who wears pink knitted cardigans and has flower tattoos.”

“Hey, texts can be deceptive!" Martin sighed. "I just hope they are the same. I’m getting kind of fond of Hunty, don’t want her to get her heart broken.” he bit his lip.

“Wouldn’t you just say that it just ‘wasn’t her trope’ though?”

“Well, I suppose, but I still don’t want her to be _sad!”_ Martin exclaimed.

“You’re lovely.” Jon froze. “Um, I mean, that’s a lovely attitude to have. To be kind. Um.”

Martin took pity on Jon, despite the growing redness in both of their faces. “How’s the tea?”

“It’s good, a little… sweeter than normal?” He questioned.

“Yeah, Basira mentioned you’d been forced to drink a lot of coffee yesterday and had seemed pretty traumatised by it. I asked her to put some honey in the tea to offset it in case you were still wounded by the bitterness.” Both Jon and Martin had been bonding over the course of their stakeouts over a shared hatred of coffee. As two naturally fretful personalities with a sweet tooth, the bitter, anxiety inducing beverage was hell-sent, as was the social pressure to drink it, had been agreed upon during one recent meeting.

“Ah, right. I was with a friend of Georgie’s.”

“ _What The Toast_ Georgie?”

He hummed. “One of the assistants on her show. Said she wanted to get to know Georgie’s friends a bit better.”

“Right, the two of you are pretty close, right?” A slight pang of what Jon thought might be jealousy snuck into Martin’s voice, assumedly due to Martin regularly professing being an avid fan of her show.

“It was tough for a while after we broke up, but we definitely came out the other side closer for it.” He admitted.

“You dated?” Martin exclaimed.

“For a few years, yes. You didn’t know? Tim teases me about it all the time – says he doesn’t see how that relationship lasted 3 weeks, let alone 3 years.”

“Three _years?_ ” The exclamation grew in volume.

Jon cocked his head in confusion. Martin seemed unduly shocked by the revelation. “We started dating towards the end of our first year at Oxford, and both applied to the Institute for our master’s degrees in order to stay together. We even got a cat together.” He laughed. “It was a _terrible_ decision. We only started dating out of a shared alliance from being the youngest students at our college.”

“Oh.” Martin shook himself out of his shocked stupor. “Oh right, you started uni at sixteen, I think you said?” A pause. “That must have been tough for you,” he added empathetically.

“Georgie was the same, although I think she found it a bit harder even than me to adjust. I’m naturally very introverted, so didn’t suffer too much from the isolation. I think she found it a lot harder. Not that many people want to be friends with a precocious sixteen year old who can’t even drink yet.”

He smiled softly and shook his head, remembering their first week at St Anne’s college. A _lot_ of his freshers week had been spent in the junior common room playing pool or table tennis; he was deceptively good at the former, and _terrible_ at the latter. He and Georgie had taken up hustling using his secret talent at pool at the nearby pub, Jude the Obscure, during their third year (Georgie’s idea, although he had definitely appreciated the additional income).

Martin bit his lip. “So you don’t like, I don’t know. Regret it? Breaking up I mean?”

“God no. I mean, she’s a great friend, but no. Definitely not. Best decision she ever made, dumping me.” He laughed self deprecatingly.. “I’d probably have just rolled along in the relationship indefinitely if she hadn’t.”

“Because it was easy?”

“It was comfortable. But it wasn’t… there wasn’t _romantic_ love there. She’s like a sister to me now. She was back then too, I just didn’t realise it.”

Martin nodded as if he understood, and some of the tension fell out of his shoulders. A small smile crept across his face. “So. Tell me about Oxford.”

The next two hours crept by in a haze of warm tea and dimmed lighting as the sun crept below the horizon, interrupted only by their frantic departure as the pair realised, so caught up in the contentment of unperturbed conversation, they only had five minutes to get back to the studio for the evening show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh we're starting to see the beginning of actual plot here! I'm using kaleidotrope for the worldbuilding, but the actual plot will be a bit different, maintain an element of mystery ;)
> 
> anyone got any theories as to what the blank paper left on the chair was?
> 
> leave a comment/kudos if you're liking the story/have any thoughts/opinions/feedback <3

**Author's Note:**

> i love both these podcasts and what's better than one alone? both! let me know if you like it because feedback makes me feel warm and happy inside (just like kaleidotrope! my feelings for tma veer more towards concerned and afraid, but in the best way


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